WORST YEAR OF LIFE

(and sorry, Nicole Kidman)

I find the first few pages of a diary, before things really get going, to be interesting spaces. In my teenage years I’d use those inner pages — and sometimes the outside covers themselves — to write do-not-read style warnings, usually underlined and in ALL CAPS. Thinking about it, that was quite enticing of me; practically an invitation to snoop.

(I don’t know for sure if any of my family or friends ever had a look inside my diaries, but my honest feeling is that they didn’t. With one mortifying exception. See footnote¹)

After the fairly deep dive I did last time, I thought it’d be fun to zoom out for this issue and explore the first few inner pages of my first two diaries. They are both from 1992, when I was 11 years old.

For some reason, I had two diaries on the go at the same time that year.

There was this slim, black week-per-view:

And this blue spiral-bound notebook, which actually you’ve already seen inside of: this is the diary where I drafted those letters to the Village Print.

Something I love immediately about the inner pages of these two dairies is how different they are.

In the blue notebook, I am very cordial:

If you read my draft letters to the Village Print, then you already know about my beautiful calligraphy-style lettering, so it’s nice to see me really flexing that skill here as well.

I am a big fan of the way I say, “This is a private book, it is a diary”. It has a kind of melody about it. I also enjoy the oh-so polite request “Please do not read”. I will say, however, that this level of politeness is not maintained in the diary entries that follow, as you’ll see in the next issue of this newsletter.

And at the bottom of the photo above there’s a nice example of my impulse to sign (sighn) everything, and don’t you think that here it brings a sense of gravitas, as if this is now a legal document just because of my signature?

Okay, so now let’s look inside the slim black diary.

Whole different story.

Simply:

Gone is the cordiality! Gone is the calligraphy!

But don’t be too worried about me because on the very next page I am showing incredible self-confidence:

And it wasn’t a one-off:

Note the dates, though: Dec 1991, in a 1992 diary — I’ve only just noticed that myself. This means I must have been given this diary early, and not for Xmas 1991 as I previously thought. And more importantly, in Dec 1991 I was ten years old, so this is the earliest sample of diary-ish writing that I have.

I am delighted that in my first personal etchings I chose to state my brillness. And then give an update on it 16 days later. Bravo, little Teresa.

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So why was 1992 the WORST YEAR OF LIFE?

I have no idea.

Not strictly true. I have a rough idea: in September 1992 I started secondary school, and the transition from my friendly junior school to the huge many-building-ed complex that was senior school wasn’t totally easy. I think that’s something I’ll share more about in a future issue, because it touches on things like weight and body image and it’d be good to give that some proper space.

Right now, let’s look at more from that ‘notes’ page, because I still had some serious notes — and calculations — to make.

Directly under I am still brill, there’s a bold statement:

Not just for a bit: 4 eva.

I had a big crush on Tom, but thinking about it, I don’t even know if I’d seen any of his films at this age. But what I had seen, and adored, was the music video to Show Me Heaven by Maria McKee, from the Days of Thunder soundtrack.

Now, if you haven’t seen that music video, or if you haven’t seen it in a while, you should go watch it on YouTube immediately. The video editor does a brilliant job of repeatedly using a handful of clips they had from Days of Thunder to create what I found, at age 11, to be a riveting masterpiece.

First, you’ve got Maria McKee looking gorgeous under a chandelier wearing a billowy dress, hair all wavy, in a big-windowed sparsely-furnished room, belting that song out with all she’s got, and it’s intercut, mostly, with just four or five clips from the film, the most important one being Nicole Kidman passionately pushing Tom Cruise against a wall for a BIG snog, and then other bits where it looks like they’ve had a passionate disagreement, maybe about him being a racing car driver, I’m not entirely sure, then back to Maria, then I think Nicole is giving Tom a pep-talk on some cardboard boxes, back to Maria, then we’re at a racetrack and it looks like Tom’s got Nicole’s full support now, back to Maria, then Tom and Nicole on a motorbike, and anyway it was just the most enthralling and alluring thing I’d ever seen!

But because I was 11 the only way I could make sense of the visual and auditory force of nature was to believe I was in love with Tom Cruise, and then to employ the mathematical equation we all used at that age to work out just how much we loved anyone.

I’ll show you, and maybe, if you grew up at a similar time, in the recesses of your mind you might remember the way this calculation worked. It took me a while to recall, but I got it earlier this week.

Here’s how much I loved Tom Cruise.

Only 33% ?!

I must have been gutted! (I’ll show you how this very sophisticated maths worked in a minute.)

Luckily, I didn’t have to feel too bad for too long, because it transpired that I loved him more than his actual wife!

18% !

I mean… I must have got some comfort from that… While also still feeling bitter and having a need to lash out, because I then added this:

I am so sorry, Nicole Kidman.

If you want to know how to do the love math:

• Write: Your Name LOVES Their Name on a piece of paper

• Count up how many L’s there are (in both names) — so for me and Tom it was just one L (in my middle name, Julie)

• Then do the same for the rest of the letters in LOVES: how many O’s, V’s, E’s, S’s there are in both your names

• You should have a 5-digit number like 1 2 0 5 4

• Now the real maths begins: add together 1+2, 2+0, 0+5, 5+4

• So for me and Tom, that gave me the second number, 3 2 5 9

• More adding: 3+2, 2+5, 5+9

• That gave 5 7 14

• 5+7 = 12 7+14 = 21

• 12+21 = 33

• You stop adding when you get to a two-digit number: so I loved Tom Cruise 33%

Oh. I’ve just spotted something. I’m genuinely only seeing it now as I’m writing this.

Read that last bullet point and look at the Tom and Nicole math again.

You stop adding when you get a two digit number… that means she actually loved him 99% !

Once again, I am so sorry, Nicole Kidman.

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And that’s a wrap for this issue of My Teenage Diaries. As always, thanks for being here.

I wonder if you’ll go and watch the Show Me Heaven music video on repeat now, like I’ve been doing for most of this week? Maybe that’s not your bag at all, though I stand firm that there’s something for everyone in that video. Even if you just like interiors.

Let me know if you had your own version of LOVE MATH when you were at school —I reckon that was a nation-wide if not global thing. And I know I’m saying ‘math’ the American way, I’m just finding it more pleasing in this instance.

Last nugget: I just read Maria McKee’s wiki page and discovered she wrote the song A Good Heart — made famous by Feargal Sharkey! When she was 19 years old! What a gal. Maybe I love her, Tom, and Nicole 33% each?

Until next time,

Sighned:-

Teresa x

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1. Here’s the exception: I had a notebook, not really a diary, when I about 10 or 11 years old in which I vented my anger at my older brother by writing “[His name] really gets on my tits!” over and over, accompanied by several biro drawings of boobs with pairs of legs dangling out of them to illustrate my point. (I don’t know if the footnotes is a good place for this confession, does it make it more discrete or less???) Anyway, the reason I remember this is because my brother found it and read it and ran around the house with it laughing. Sadly (?) I didn’t keep the notebook so I can’t show you the pics, but I’m sure you can imagine it VIVIDLY.